


The Nine Realms Cafe

by nayanroo



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Oral Sex, cameos for everyone, darcy has a cameo, jane has a cameo, sif and loki are idiots about each other, thor just wants everyone to get along, tropey goop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:09:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nayanroo/pseuds/nayanroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you want to run from something, you go to Asgardia.  When you want to put it back together, you go to the Nine Realms Cafe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nine Realms Cafe

**Author's Note:**

> So I was sitting in a Starbucks the other night and I thought, "I really want to write a coffee shop AU." So I did. This is rieght about ten thousand words of ridiculous goop, but it was a lot of fun to write. I make no apologies and have no shame.
> 
> Also if you ever want to get things done, write-race someone. It's really excellent motivation.
> 
> Written for [fyeahlokisif](fyeahlokisif.tumblr.com) and its 400-follower contest.

It had only been a couple months, but as she jogged by Sif already got waves and greetings from people unlocking their shops. Running through the neighborhood every day would do that, though, and it was a way to keep her homesickness at bay. Moving to Asgardia from Vanaheim Heights had been kind of a shock, but it was one Sif thought she needed badly. It was easy to hide behind gates and big plantations. Asgardia was much more metropolitan.

It also trained her eye, and as she slowed down for a red light and a stretch, she saw that the _For Sale_ sign in the window of the corner shop space had been taken down, and contractors were going in and out, obviously working inside. Sif raised an eyebrow, straightening up and going over to the owner of the organic grocery that occupied this corner.

“Someone bought the shop over there?”

The owner looked up. “Yeah. It’s gonna be a coffee shop, apparently. One of those fancy, high-end products only places.”

“Organic, fair-trade…”

“Yup.” The man peered at the storefront, still blank and waiting for fresh paint and a name. “The two owners came ‘round a couple days ago when the sale finalized. They’re brothers, pretty famous ones. Their dad’s provincial gov’.”

“Really?” Sif wondered if a couple of rich boys buying a shop was an overused idea, then shrugged. Odin Borson, the provincial governor, probably liked the idea. Word was he was grooming his oldest for his own position. “You get their names?”

“Odinson. Thor’s the older one. Loki’s the younger one.”

“Huh.” Sif straightened and watched the light flick from green to yellow. “Maybe I’ll drop by when it opens.”

*

“It’s a _terrible_ idea.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Loki.” Thor stood in the middle of the gutted shop, looking delighted in the flurry of activity around him. “It’s a _great_ idea. And it’s the only idea that will work. It really isn’t that hard.”

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose, then ran his hands through his shoulder-length black hair. “Thor, I have no gentle way to tell you that I only _consumed_ coffee in law school, I didn’t learn how to _make_ it.”

“It’s not that difficult!”

“And where did _you_ learn? Is that what they teach people in MBA programs now?”

“We don’t have enough cash on hand to hire another employee right away, and Father’s said he wants to wait a couple months to see if we’re successful.” Thor walked over and put a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Come on, brother. It’ll only be temporary, and then you’ll do finances full time.”

He rolled his eyes, watching the shadow of a woman running past as it tracked across the half-tiled floor. “Or I’ll be at a prestigious law firm.”

“You would leave me to slave away here, alone…”

“Don’t.”

“…without my brother to support me…”

“ _Don’t_.” Loki sighed and waved Thor’s hand away. “Fine. _Fine._ I will sacrifice my dignity for your sake, because I am such a good and loyal brother.”

Thor grinned and slapped Loki on the shoulder. It stung through his suit, and with a sigh, he pulled out his iPad and the portable keyboard that went with it and set up on the newly-installed counter.

“I’ll teach you how,” Thor promised, effusive now that his plans were coming together, or being accepted as the only course of action, or both. “It’ll be fun, Loki. We’re going into business together.”

“Yes,” Loki muttered, pulling up the documents he wanted and setting to work. “This is going to be _great_ fun.”

*

One morning Sif ran by, and the shop was open.

She slowed outside the windows, peering inside. The shop – christened the _Nine Realms Café_ according to the sign above the door and the smaller one on the sidewalk, chained to the bus stop post – seemed to have that dim and cool ambiance of most coffee shops, but there were people at most of the tables and others coming in and out, so at least it was doing well in its first days. Curious and with time to spare, she pulled the door open and went inside.

“Welcome!” the blond man behind the counter called. He had a big, open smile on his face, one that she couldn’t help but respond to as she stepped up to the counter, eyeing his nametag.

“Thanks… Loki?”

“What?” The man looked down at the tag on his star-embroidered apron and laughed, twisting to look at the dark-haired man working the espresso machine with a look of intense concentration on his face. “Brother, what did you do?”

“I have to find amusement somehow, Thor.” He glanced over. “I apologize for his overabundance of enthusiasm. It makes up for his lack of sense.”

“Don’t be rude to the customers, Loki.” When he only got a shrug in return, Thor turned back to Sif with that brilliant smile. “So what can I get you?”

She held up her hands. “No money on me. I don’t carry anything on my run.”

“That’s fine.” Thor waved a hand at the board. “Choose anything.”

“Thor—“ Loki began, looking exasperated, but he shut his mouth with a sullen look when Thor waved a hand. 

“I’m serious. Anything.” He leaned on his elbows, giving her a look she recognized all too well and that soured her right away on accepting the offer. “It’s good for business.”

“I’ll come back when I’ve got money,” she said, and watched Thor’s face fall a little bit. Clearly he wasn’t used to his charm not working on women. “You’re new. Don’t you need paying customers?”

“I told you he had no sense,” Loki said darkly. He was glaring at the drink he was finishing up, but kept throwing dark looks over to Thor.

“All right,” Thor muttered, straightening. “But you will come back?”

“Maybe.” Shoving her ear buds back in, Sif pushed the door open with the flat of her palm and took off across the street, not even looking to see if the light was her way. She’d moved to get away from having men like Thor constantly thrown at her, and still she’d managed to run into one.

 _Way to go, Tysdottir,_ she thought, picking up her pace. _You run and run and end up back at the same place._

*

When the door swung shut behind her, Loki rounded on his brother.

“What,” he hissed between his teeth, “Was _that_.”

“I just offered her a free—“

“And you did it in the most _disgusting_ way imaginable. Do you actually _have_ a brain between your ears?”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset.” Thor turned to the sink and began washing the used mugs, making a lot more noise than he had to.

“Because if she doesn’t come back and instead tells her friends that the big blond guy made a pass at her, it will be bad for the reputation we don’t yet have.”

Thor made a noise, but fell into that thoughtful silence that meant he was turning the information over in his mind anyway, and Loki sighed and set about mopping up the droplets of coffee and foam that dotted the counter. He couldn’t help looking at the door every now and then, though. It was rare for a woman – especially a beautiful woman – to stand up to Thor, though there’d been something in her eyes to suggest she had to deal with this often.

That thought made him irritable, so he wrung out the towel until it was less than damp, letting his frustration out. Between making a rush of drinks (with a success rate he wasn’t particularly pleased with) and his brother’s astonishing lack of business sense, Loki wondered how long the _Nine Realms_ would be around.

*

She’d debated not going back all through her shower, but by the time she’d shut the water off and climbed out Sif had made up her mind to return. She really was curious, and it wasn’t as though she had anything else to do on a Saturday anyway.

The shop had emptied out a little, but it was only midmorning, and it meant one of the cushy-looking chairs tucked away in a corner by the window was open. She tossed her bag onto it to claim it and brought her wallet over to the counter. Thor wasn’t there, which made Sif feel a little badly. But he had to learn somehow, and she wanted something to drink, so she tilted her chin up and squashed the tiny bit of guilt.

“Told you I’d be back,” she said. “Loki, right?”

He looked up from his iPad and quickly slid it away, smile sliding onto his face just as smoothly. “Right. I see you picked a good time; my brother has just gone away on break. On my honor he will not trouble you with his boorish ways, ah…?”

“Sif. And we all have our little problems.” She leaned back to read the menu again and ordered an iced chai and a slice of coffee cake. Loki made quite the show of taking her money and counting out her change, and presented her with the coffee cake on a plate. The iced chai materialized at the end of the counter, and Sif collected it on her way back to her chosen seat.

“Do let me know how it is,” Loki called after her. He had an overly broad grin on his face now. “I’ve never made one of those before.”

 _That’s reassuring,_ she thought, and hesitantly took a sip. It actually wasn’t bad; not the best she’d had before, but she didn’t think she was going to die. She lifted her cup in response, and Loki nodded to himself. 

She’d been reading for about fifteen minutes when someone pulled a chair over across from her.

“I see you came back,” Thor said. Sif peered at him over the top of her book.

“I’ve never let bad flirting stand between me and doing something before. You aren’t going to get that honor.”

“Yes, well…” Thor seemed… _shy_ , and that interested her. “I apologize for it. That was not how a business owner should act.”

“Apology accepted,” Sif replied briskly. “I guarantee you will retain more women as customers if you don’t do that again.”

“I imagine so. I would offer you… I don’t know, a gift card or something to make up for it, but they haven’t come in yet.” He looked at the plate – now only covered in crumbs – and the half-empty cup. “Is everything to your liking?”

“It’s not bad at all. But then again, I’ve only had one drink.” Sif smiled at him. “I’m going to have to come back again.”

*

“Not bad, for a first day,” Thor announced when they were cleaning up after the last customers had left. Loki, closing out the register, gave one of his more noncommittal monosyllables. It was as close to agreement as Thor knew he’d get, though for his part, Thor felt elated. His father had gone on so many times about Thor learning responsibility before taking on the family business, and now it seemed they were off to a good start.

“So,” Loki said after he’d put the cash in their bank deposit bag and zipped it closed. His tone was as close to casual as one could get, and that made Thor pause in putting the clean cups back up on the shelves. Loki only used that tone when he wanted to know something but didn’t want others to realize how important he thought the subject was. Thor knew it, and he imagined their parents did too, and had no idea why Loki didn’t just _act interested_ in the first place, but Loki was Loki.

“So?”

“Was that you apologizing to… Sif, was it?”

Another tell, because Loki’s mind was a steel trap that kept everything in. “Yes, I went over and apologized for my behavior. Why?”

“You were talking for a long time.”

Thor shrugged. “Is building a rapport with customers bad? We just talked a little.”

“It’s not bad.”

Thor put the last mug away and started on the plates. “Then why are you upset about it?”

“I’m not upset.”

“Loki, you are my brother. We grew up together.”

“That hardly gives you the ability to read my thoughts.” Loki shrugged. “I just wanted to be sure you weren’t bothering her.”

“Well, I wasn’t.” Thor made a face. “Look, let’s just finish cleaning up and go home.”

“And soak in the hot tub for the rest of the night.” Loki made a face, stretching one of his long legs out. “I’m astonished I can still bend my knees.”

Thor chuckled, and felt something within him relax. He and Loki had grown apart as they’d gone into their separate educations – Loki doing pre-law, then going off to the most prestigious law school money could buy, Thor going to business school – and something in his brother had closed off in that time, some door that had always been open now carefully shut and bolted. Thor missed the closeness, the way he and Loki had always had each other’s backs, and privately hoped that this way, the two of them could become close again.

“I’ll break out the wine, too. Do you think Father will mind?”

Loki got a devious look on his face. “Father doesn’t have to know.”

Thor laughed again, and started putting the plates away. Maybe, just maybe, the coffee shop wouldn’t be the only success.

*

Through marketing or word of mouth, the _Nine Realms Café_ did very well in its first week. Loki’s coffee-making skills had grown to levels he seemed to accept for the time being, and Sif decided she’d keep it in her schedule. It was a comfortable place to go after her classes at the police academy or to sit for a couple hours with a book.

After their initial awkwardness, Sif found she was fast becoming friends with Thor. He always had a smile and a greeting ready if he was working the counter when she came in, and the brothers knew her order, though she made good on her promise to try more drinks, of course.

“No Loki today?” she asked as she picked up today’s variant. Thor tipped his head to the tables set up on the low stage at one end of the shop, where Loki sat with a woman, her strawberry-blonde hair in a perfect coif.

“Mother came by to see how it’s going,” he said quietly. “She and Loki are close, so naturally she pulled him away. It’s getting busy too.” He made a face, and Sif snorted.

“You need to hire another employee.”

“We need more money to do that.” Thor shrugged and started on the next drink. “We’re fine for now. He promised to keep an eye out for if it got too busy, and Mother understands.”

“I can always go bully him for you.”

“Good, because he never listens to me.”

Laughing, Sif took her customary seat by the window and pulled out her book. The drink had hazelnut and coffee in it, and the chair was comfortable, and the book was a tattered fantasy she’d read a dozen times before. She was gone from the world within a few minutes.

Across the shop, Frigga watched as her younger son first tried to pretend he wasn’t paying avid attention to everything being said – much more attention than he was giving to the conversation with his mother – and then that he wasn’t looking at the woman by the window. She was familiar, and Frigga gave her a long look herself before touching Loki’s hand.

“As I was saying,” she began primly, trying not to smile as he twitched and turned his attention back to her, “I am trying to prevail upon your father to reach out to his contacts; he has plenty among the law offices of Asgardia, he could find you a position as a first-year with any of them, I am sure—“

“Father need not concern himself.” Loki turned the mug of chai round and round in place, staring into it as though it had personally offended him. “Father is concerned more with the success - _Thor’s_ success of this place. I am certain that my résumé is impressive enough to attract attention without _his_ help.”

“Your father wants to see you successful too, Loki. And we both want you happy.” Frigga took a sip of her tea. Loki truly was becoming more skilled with making things. She’d come home one day after her sons had begun renovating the shop to find Loki practicing with the machinery that had resided only in one part of the garage. He’d had his laptop open, watching tutorials and reading instructions and then practicing a drink until he got it perfect.

 _My lovely, intelligent boy,_ Frigga had thought. _You always were harder on yourself than anyone else. Your standards are so high that sometimes I worry you will never reach the ones you set_.

“Father has an odd way of showing it. If he shows it at all.”

“He gets confused about the _how_ of it.” Frigga patted his hand. “But he is proud of you for your education and proud for going into business with your brother.”

“It has been strangely rewarding.” His eyes strayed to the woman again, then snapped back to his drink.

“There is something to be said for entrepreneurship.” Frigga finished her tea and Loki took her mug back to the counter when they rose. The dark-haired woman was getting a refill on her drink while they were there, and Frigga paused, familiarity tugging at her mind. She gently touched the woman on her arm. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you look like someone I know. What’s your name, dear?”

She had hazel eyes, and it all clicked for Frigga then, even before she gave over her name. “Sif.”

“Are you from Asgardia, then, Sif?”

Sif’s eyes darted to one side before she replied. “I live here, yes.”

“Sif’s a regular,” Thor piped up, grinning broadly. “Always comes by with her homework or after her run. She’s going to be a police officer.”

“Is that so?” Frigga smiled. “I had an uncle in Asgardia’s police force. An admirable occupation, and not one to enter lightly.”

“I know.”

“Then I commend you on your choice.” She held out a hand, and after a moment, Sif took it. “I am Frigga Fjorgynsdottir.”

“She runs a hospital,” Thor added.

“I’m Head Director for Asgardia General.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sif said. Funny, Frigga thought, how people slipped back into patterns of behavior.

“Nice to meet you too, Sif. Do keep an eye on my boys for me, will you? I worry about them when they are out all day here.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Fjorgynsdottir.” Sif’s smile was wide and bright, and there was just a hint of a devious look in her eyes. “I’ll make sure they stay out of trouble.”

She embraced both her sons and left, walking around the corner and climbing into the waiting car. “Back to the hospital, please,” she said as she pulled out her phone and dialed her husband’s direct desk line.

“ _Borson._ ”

“Do you not recognize my number, dear husband?”

She could hear the gruff smile in Odin’s voice when he replied, “ _It is only habit, dearest wife. How are our sons?_ ”

“Prospering. They seem to have their feet under them.”

“ _So far._ ”

“I believe in our boys, Odin. But we can talk about them later.” Frigga watched the businesses slide by as they drove back downtown, the buildings climbing higher and higher. “I ran into someone while I was there.”

“ _Who?_ ”

“The daughter of an old friend of ours. You remember Tyr, do you not? Tyr Hymisson, of Tyr Weapon Systems?”

“ _I do._ ” She could hear the creaking of her husband’s chair as he sat back. “ _His daughter? What was her… Sif? Why was she there?_ ”

“I’m not sure.” Frigga thought on how Loki’s eyes had tracked to her, how Thor’s smile had seemed brighter to look upon her. “But I should very much like to find out.”

*

Summer became fall, and Sif continued to go to the Nine Realms. It kept her mind off other things, and one day – her birthday, actually, where not only did the brothers give her a drink on the house (that she finally accepted), they got her _gifts_ that were worth something – she realized she’d become friends with them.

Thor, she’d found, was deeply thoughtful and smart behind his vibrant jock exterior. Apparently he’d graduated in the top ten percent of his class at business school. He was still heir to his father’s position (unofficially, but nepotism was alive and well), but felt he was not ready to take over yet. They’d had some good conversations, though.

Loki was more guarded. She couldn’t always get a read on him, but he seemed to share at least a mild interest in fantasy lit, and they’d talked about that week’s Game of Thrones often enough. He admitted getting angry enough over the Red Wedding and its aftermath to punch his pillows, something he hadn’t done since he was a child. But he seemed to be deliberately keeping her at arm’s length and yet inviting her in. It was wearying, and exhilarating, and confusing.

When she noticed it she wasn’t sure, as it grew so gradually out of their conversations. A touch here, her fingertips on his arm to get his attention; her drink waiting for her already before she walked in, as though he knew what she’d want on any given day, and always a mischievous glitter in his eye as though he was so proud of himself for knowing. When the touches became warm, when the glances began to carry weight, when the glitter in Loki’s eyes took on a darker smolder that followed her home into bed some nights… Between her approaching graduation from the police academy and this strange new development between them, the ball of anger and hurt that Sif had carried in her heart from home had almost vanished.

And then the e-mails began.

*

Sif hadn’t noticed she was staring into space until a long-fingered hand set another mug of her drink—peppermint mocha—in front of her. It had whipped cream on top of it and a crisscrossing pattern of caramel and chocolate drizzled on top, and smelled amazing. She almost felt bad for not wanting to put anything in her stomach right now.

“You’ve been looking at the same page in your book for twenty minutes,” Loki said, sliding into the chair across from her.

She set her book aside and wrapped her fingers around the mug. It was a blustery fall day, close to Halloween, and she felt cold even inside. Not all of that was the weather though. “Obviously it’s not the greatest book.”

“That’s not true. I’ve seen you reading it several times – at different points, so I know you’re rereading it – which means it’s one of your favorites. And yet here you are, staring at the pages as though you cannot see the words.”

“You’re really observant,” Sif muttered darkly, digging around in her bag for her wallet with one hand. “How much for the—“

“It’s on the house.”

“Loki…”

“For now, anyway.” He smiled, and for once it was not one of the fake-sincere ones he put on for other customers, for the numerous women who hung around the counter just to watch him work the machine. “I’ll expect you to settle accounts before you leave.”

“Good. I don’t want to trade on friendship.”

“I know.” Loki shifted, and their knees bumped under the table. “However, as a barista at an independent coffee shop, I believe I am obligated by the trope to lend a sympathetic ear to the woes of a regular customer.”

“Isn’t that for bartenders?”

“Is it?” Loki’s eyes rounded innocently. “I can never remember.”

“And I know _that_ is bullshit.” Sif felt herself cracking a smile. “You remember everything.”

“Such a burden, such a curse.” Loki slouched back in his chair, his own fingers wrapped around his steaming mug. “I remember you smiling more, Sif.” He turned her book to read the cover. “Or perhaps ‘Lady Sif’ is more appropriate?”

“I do like the sound of that.”  
“I thought you might.” Loki was silent, watching her face carefully. “So, what troubles you, Lady Sif?”

“I…” She stared at the mostly-melted whipped cream on top of her mocha. “It’s complicated.”

“I went to law school. I think I can keep up. And if you need secrecy, which I would assume would be the _other_ reason behind you hemming and hawing when you usually charge head-first into every discussion we have, rest assured I am _very_ good at keeping secrets.”

“You make a compelling argument.”

“Again, law school.” He made a gesture with a hand. “Tell me.”

Sif took a breath. “My family didn’t approve of my intention to become a police officer. They had… well, other plans for me. I think you know I’m not one to let other people tell me what to do, at this point.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear over the last four months.”

“I said I would leave. They didn’t believe me, so I left, because I’d rather live dirt-poor and off what I’d saved up knowing I’d have to leave eventually than be under their thumb.” Sif gripped her mug tightly. “I don’t want to be _controlled_. I am my own person, and I won’t be used as some kind of pawn rather than be recognized as fully capable.”

“They didn’t think you were able to be a police officer?”

She only hesitated a moment before she replied, “They didn’t think I could run a company, much less the second-most profitable one in the province. They wanted me to—“ Sif felt anger rise in her chest just thinking about it, and nearly choked on the words “—wanted me to _marry_ , so that my _husband_ could take over for my father. I was _never_ good enough for him.”

She expected some flippant comment out of Loki, to be honest; he was known for them, after all, his quick tongue making short work of anyone who argued with him with the intention of cutting him down. Instead she saw something very different in his expression. Familiarity, she realized. Bitterness. He _knew_ what it was like, she could see it, and something in her heart relaxed just a little bit.

“Your parents are fools for that, my lady,” he said quietly. “You have a keen mind and more than a good share of sense, and that they do not see it is a crime.”

“I know they are.” Sif shrugged. “That’s why I left. I saved up what money I could for months, and I left, and I haven’t looked back.” She ran her fingertip along the rim of her mug. “Until I started getting e-mails from my mom – my father lost his hand in an accident. He was hunting – that stupid fucking cabin up in the mountains, something happened – and ended up having to have his hand amputated. Something about wolves, I don’t know. Anyway… I guess infection set in, and he refused to acknowledge there was anything wrong until it was too late. He’s dead, and Mom wants me to come home.”

Loki had gone still, but wasn’t anymore, though Sif thought perhaps he was making a conscious effort to remain neutral-seeming. “And home is…”

“Vanaheim Heights.”

“That’s pretty far away.”

“I’d have to give up the academy, my life here… I don’t live a life of luxury, not when I’m basically hiding out, but I’m _independent._ I make my own decisions. And I _like_ it. I like coming here, I like not having to constantly watch what I say and who I talk to.” Sif ran a hand through her hair and took a sip of her drink. It had cooled somewhat, but the peppermint was sharp on her tongue. She liked the sting. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Loki murmured. When Sif raised an eyebrow, he shrugged. “I don’t have anyone else to talk to about Game of Thrones.”

“Nobody who’s read the books, anyway.”

“Exactly. It would be agony.”

“I’m sure you’d live.” Sif leaned back, letting her head tip over until she was staring at the ceiling. “I should go the funeral, at least. I owe my mom that much.”

“Why do you owe her _anything_?” Loki’s eyebrows drew together. “She didn’t say anything to stop your father. She didn’t back you up. Why not cut ties?”

“Because I always got the sense that my mother wanted me to get out of the life. And because it’s family, and that’s the right thing to do.”

“I suppose.” Sif suddenly wanted to be alone, to do more thinking. “Thanks for the mocha.”

“Of course.”

“And thanks for listening.” She put her hand on top of where he’d curled his on top of the table. It was cool from the water he’d washed it under before coming out here, but tingling warmth spread along her arm just the same. “I’ll figure out what to do.” She sounded a lot more sure than she felt.

Loki’s eyes had locked onto their hands as though he didn’t know what to do with this new sensory information, and only glanced up after a moment. “I—yes, you will, of course,” he replied. “Don’t forget the ‘Realms, though, if you leave.”

Sif shook her head and took her hand away, rubbing her thumb across her fingertips to dispel the warmth in them. “I don’t think I could.” 

*

After she had paid and left an hour later, Thor watched her go. “Is she okay?” he asked Loki, when his brother finished up at the register and leaned against the sink, passing a hand over his face.

“Does she look okay to you?”

“Is this about her father?”

“How do _you_ know about that?”

Thor shrugged. “We talked about it a couple days ago. You weren’t here, that was when you had that bad mayonnaise and—“

“Not important. She talked to you about it?”

“We’re friends.” Thor gave Loki a curious look. “Are _you_ okay, Loki? Why are you so upset?”

Loki ground his teeth. How could he explain anything to Thor? Coffee shop owners weren’t supposed to fall for their customers. “Nothing,” he muttered, slamming pitchers and plastic blender lids around. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s _something._ ”

“No it’s not.”

He wasn’t expecting for Thor to grab him by the shirt and push him toward the storage room in the back, or kick the door shut either.

“Look, I know you think I’m an idiot,” Thor said, after a moment of pacing in front of a stack of boxes. “I know I’m not as smart as you are, or at least I’m not as fast at putting things together. But Loki, I _care_ about you. Adopted or not—“ And he watched Loki cross his arms and close himself off, and kicked himself for saying that, but the words were out now “—you’re my _brother._ When you’re upset, I want to know why because I want to _fix_ it. I just want things to be like they used to between us. Before you went to law school and… drifted.”

“Things won’t ever be the same, Thor,” Loki snapped. But he sounded weary, and when he reached up to put a hand over his eyes, Thor gripped his brother’s button-down shirt by the sleeves and looked him in the eye.

“Then let us continue on with what we have now,” Thor said. “Don’t burn your bridges, Loki, not any more of them. Not ours.” They were both silent for a long time, and Thor made himself let go of Loki’s shirt. “Okay,” he said. “So. _What’s_ going on?”

Loki shrugged. “Sif’s a friend of ours, and she’s upset. I’m concerned.”

“Is that it?” Thor imagined there was much more, but Loki looked away, and he knew no more would be forthcoming.

“I do not want her to return to Vanaheim,” he said.

“Nor do I.”

“I am afraid her mother will prevail upon her to stay when she goes to her father’s funeral.”

“I know.” Thor opened the door of the storage room, but neither of them moved. “It _is_ Sif’s decision, though, you realize.”

Loki’s expression turned sullen. “I know. But I wish I could convince her to stay.”

“You were always the more persuasive of the two of us. Perhaps, if you get the chance, you can talk to her about it. Until then you will simply have to accept that Sif does as she pleases. You cannot control her, Loki.”

“I _know._ ”

By the time he swanned back through the storage room and out in the café Loki’s face betrayed nothing of the turmoil within him, and Thor watched as he closed the door and went back to work. Nobody who didn’t know him would know Loki was… angry? No. Jealous, worried… those were better. He’d been jealous when Thor had said he’d talked to Sif about her father already, and he’d been evasive just a moment ago.

“Hm,” Thor said. An idea was taking shape in his mind, an explanation for his brother’s behavior for _months._ He’d have to do more investigation, but he was fairly certain he was right.

“Welcome to the Nine Realms!” he called to the brown-haired woman coming in. “What can I get started for you?”

*

Sif came in the next day and said she’d be going back to Vanaheim for the funeral, at least.

“No idea how I’m getting there,” she muttered. “I took a bus out here so my father wouldn’t notice I was gone by my missing car, and, well…”

“Oh,” Thor replied with a grin. “Well, we just hired on another barista – Sif, Darcy, Darcy, Sif – and I think between her and me, we can handle things here for a few days. Loki, why don’t you drive Sif out to Vanaheim?”

Much to her surprise, Loki gave his brother a dark look, and Sif rocked back, stung. _Is the thought of three days with me so repulsive to him?_ The look on his face yesterday and everything that had come before…

“He doesn’t have to,” she said stiffly. “If he has other things to do.”

“He doesn’t.”

“He can speak for himself, Thor.” Loki glanced at her over the top of the espresso machine, a cursory glance. “If you want me to come with you, Sif?”

“Not if you’re going to be crabby the whole way.”

“Don’t you realize?” Loki gave her one of his plastic smiles. “I’m a delight.”

“Here’s your chai,” Thor boomed. The cluster of people at the big table in the center of the café looked over briefly, then went back to whatever it was they were discussing. “And I’m sure Loki just needs to think about it. I know for a fact he doesn’t have anything else to do if he’s not working here.”

“He needn’t bother,” Sif snapped. “I’m not going to go to my father’s funeral with someone who doesn’t want to be around me.”

She picked up her drink and took herself off toward her usual corner, but that chair was taken and so she threw her bag on top of another table and sat heavily, glaring into her drink.

Back at the counter, Thor dragged his brother over.

“I am trying,” he hissed, “To do you a _favor_.”

“I don’t want it. I don’t _need_ your—“

“You need to stop being such an _idiot._ What is wrong with you?” Thor leaned in close. “You want her to stay? Vanaheim is a seven-hour drive, here’s your chance.”

“I don’t—“

“Uh,” Darcy said, the syllable rising in pitch as the drink she was trying to make started to erupt all over her hands. “Guys?”

Thor sighed and stepped away from Loki. “This _isn’t_ over,” he said, and went to help Darcy get the machine back under control before it started spraying all over the shop.

*

Thor was able to convince Loki to drive Sif – and to convince Sif to let Loki drive her – but they were being coolly polite to each other, which distressed him. Even if his suppositions of romantic intent were wrong, Loki was his brother and Sif had become one of his best friends. She was sensible and smart and very driven, and he respected her decisions and advice far more than he did his parents’ sometimes.

That night, he went into his brother’s room and found him carefully packing for a two-day trip. Two changes of casual clothes (well, as casual as Loki got, anyway) were going into a suitcase, and one of his suits hung on a hook by the closet door, waiting to go into his garment bag.

“Are you going to tell me what’s _really_ going on?” he asked, sitting down on top of some of his brother’s clothes.

Loki’s back tensed, but he folded the second shirt and placed it neatly in his bag. “There is nothing to tell, Thor.”

He waffled a moment over it, then, in typical Thor fashion, decided to simply go for the shot. “I know what she means to you.”

Loki went very still. “What did you say?”

 _Jackpot._ “I know how you feel about her. I knew yesterday, but once I’d figured it out, a lot of things the two of you have done made sense. Loki, you can’t let her slip away. I’ve never seen you like this over someone before, and… when I said I’d take care of you to Mother and Father, well, this is part of it. I’m trying to help you.”

“She’s cross with me.”

“Because you were acting like an _idiot_ , little brother.”

“And you know this?”

Thor gave him a very level look, and Loki must not have been used to being on the receiving end of that because he huffed and looked away. “I’m not stupid, Loki, as much as you seem convinced otherwise. Look, just… you’re good at talking, Loki. Talk to her.”

Loki shook his head. “Why would she bother with me?” he muttered darkly. 

“Because she cares about you, perhaps? Just promise me, brother. Promise me you will try.”

“If I say yes, will you get off my shirts?” Thor leaned to one side so Loki could tug his neatly-folded shirts out and put them in his bag, and Loki sighed. “I will try.”

*

Despite Loki’s promise, when he rolled up to Sif’s apartment building – privately appalled at how she lived, for he would have given her better if he could have – she still seemed cross or at least without any desire to speak, and they passed most of the seven-hour ride in silence, exchanging only a few words when they stopped for lunch. Loki was unsure how to broach the subject, and frustrated with himself for it, and spent most of the drive wondering how he could have let this happen.

As they drove into Vanaheim, the houses got larger and larger, hidden behind shrubs and gates from the prying eyes of those driving by; to him, used to the bustling life of Asgardia, it seemed closed off and unwelcoming. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sif’s fists clench. He wanted to reach over, but figured she might push him through the window of his Lexus.

“I hope your mother does not mind me staying.”

Sif snorted. “She seemed thrilled at the idea. She loves entertaining, and as soon as I mentioned your last name, she was beside herself. You’ll have to pry her off you. Turn in here.”

They pulled off the road and up to the silvery control box outside a wrought-iron gate. The screen clicked on, and with it, a camera and the attendant light showing it was taking video.

“Who is it?”

Sif leaned across him. “It’s me, mother. It’s Sif.”

Loki remained still. She’d braced one of her hands on his leg and her hair was _very_ close, her face close enough for him to see where her tinted lipgloss had smeared a bit when she’d eaten lunch. He imagined rubbing it away with a thumb, or with his mouth, and then he stopped imagining because her hand was in an extremely delicate place.

“Oh! Of course. Come in, dear, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Sif twisted back into her seat and heaved a sigh, watching the gates swing ponderously open. Loki bit his lip, and the pain brought him back to himself. “Any last advice, Sif?”

“No sudden moves. And don’t feed the relatives.”

*

The viewing itself was a lovely affair, as much as viewings could be. There were a good number of people Sif knew, some she didn’t, and far too many relatives altogether among both groups at the viewing. The funeral ceremonies were the next morning, and as she wandered aimlessly around her own room in her robe, there was a knock at the door.

“I wasn’t sure if you had any suitable dresses,” her mother said, coming in with a garment bag in one hand. “So I had one bought for you.”

“I have black dresses, Mom.” But Sif just sighed and took the dress; it was pointless to argue with her mother when she got like this, and with her dad gone now, Sif felt she had to be a little kinder to her mother. Looking at the woman who had raised her showed time and care and grief taking their toll, and Sif’s heart went to her throat. Going to Asgardia had given her perspective on their relationship, and for that she was very glad. “But thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” Instead of leaving, her mother hung the bag up on a hook and went over, cupping her daughter’s face and turning it this way and that. Eila, daughter of Byorg, had been and still was a great beauty. As a child, Sif had always felt a little inadequate, but her mother had never encouraged that idea, and even when father and daughter had had their falling out it had been her mother who’d tried to repair the breach. But Sif had inherited her father’s stubborn will in addition to his dark hair and height, and now she had failed in her duty to her family, and she had no more chances to make it right.

Her mother must have had some idea what she was thinking, for she smiled. “Deep down, your father knew he was wrong. It was his pride that kept him from making amends, and no fault of your own.”

“I know. Still…”

“You wish you had done more. I know.” Her mother took up her hands. “There was nothing to be done. Now you must simply move forward—but you have always done that well. Now, let me fix your hair. What have you been _doing_ with it, the ends are _awful_ … and you must tell me about your studies, and about the young man downstairs who makes such wonderful coffee. He is an Odinson, is he not? The younger brother?”

She let her mother do her hair and her makeup, and talked about the police academy and her ambitions of joining the Asgardia Police Department, of eventually working her way up to becoming Chief of Police. She talked too about the _Nine Realms_ and the two brothers she had grown so fond of. She talked of the way Thor had of simply drawing people to him and bringing out their best, of how his nature hid a mind most never knew was there. She talked of Loki and his wit and his intelligence, of how he both infuriated her and intrigued her, of the long debates they had on all manner of subjects.

“I do not know what to do about him, Momma,” Sif told her. “It was as though overnight he came to hate me.”

“I don’t think he hates you, dear. Look up.” Sif obeyed and her mother gently applied mascara to her lower lashes. “I had my own chat with him this morning while he fixed me a drink. We talked about you, among other things.”

Sif watched her mother as she leaned back toward the vanity searching for just the right lip shade, settling on a deep berry color. “And?”

“I think you ought to talk to him, Sif—pout, please, so I—yes. It is not a conversation that should be relayed between people.” She carefully dabbed away the excess and sat back. “There. You look lovely, Sif.” Her hand took her daughter’s again, and Sif felt a tremor in it. “You look like your father. Thank the gods you have the sense to avoid the mistakes he made.”

“Momma…?”

“Do not let pride be a barrier to you, Sif. It can bolster you, or it can block you. Let it be the former.” She stood, leaning a little more heavily on the vanity than she would have a year ago. “Now, we mustn’t keep anyone waiting. I would hate to miss my own husband’s funeral.”

She helped Sif into the black sheath and selected shoes, jewelry, and hat for her, and they left. The foyer downstairs was full of people milling about, various family members that would fill the limousines and the black SUVs on the way to the temple for the ceremony, but Sif’s eyes found Loki immediately. He had a green-and-gold scarf draped around his neck, and amid a sea of black, it stood out. _He_ stood out. 

Sif couldn’t help but feel a little smug when he caught sight of her coming down the stairs and froze. _You can’t always pretend to be indifferent,_ she thought.

*

The wake meant the house was crowded with people, and Sif didn’t notice that her mother was simply sitting on one of the plush upholstered chairs in the den until she went looking.

The den had always been her father’s space, and now it looked as though it had only been tidied by the housekeeper but had had nothing removed yet. Eila looked small and weary in the big chair, and Sif closed the door before going to her.

“Oh, my dear girl,” her mother said, gripping Sif’s hand tightly. “I hope I didn’t worry you, but it was all getting close in there, and I needed…”

“I understand.” Sif hooked an ottoman and dragged it over with her foot, catching the tail end of her mother’s disapproving glance. “What? I’ve been living on my own for months, I’ve gotten a few bad habits.”

“I suppose that’s to be expected.” Eila ran a hand over her forehead.

“Are you all right, Mom?”

“I am tired, Sif,” her mother said after a long pause. “Your father was a taxing man, and now that he is gone I realize just how long and hard I have run to keep up, and there is still so much left to do.”

“I can come home,” Sif began, but her mother put up a hand.

“I want to see you finish the academy. I want you to do what it is you dream of doing, Sif, for you spoke so passionately about it that I could not want anything else. What else should a parent do for their child but love them?” She looked down, tears beginning to glisten at the corners of her eyes, and Sif quickly fetched a box of tissues from a table nearby.

“I want to be a police officer,” she said, “But I’ve been away too long. I’m not going to let you try to pick up Father’s mess alone. What kind of daughter would I be?”

“Honestly? Probably a very smart one.” They laughed a little bit, and her mother touched Sif’s cheek. “As much as I would love your help, Sif, I cannot ask for it. If you wish to come home and help, I would welcome you. But do not let that stand in the way of getting everything it is you want.”

*

When they were driving back the day after the funeral, Sif said, “I’m going to be coming back to Vanaheim after I graduate from the academy.”

Loki whipped his head around so sharply it nearly spun off his neck. “What? Why?”

“Mom needs some help getting things back in order at the company. I think both of us know I’m not going to be taking it over, so there’s the matter of choosing a CEO, getting Father’s affairs in order…”

“Does your mother not have lawyers on retainer to help with that?”

“She does. But she needs me, too.” Sif leaned against the door, watching the trees and fields of Vanaheim Heights slide past. “She’s tired, Loki. She keeps going because it’s what society and the company need from her, but she’s tired, and I can’t make her face it alone.”

“What about the police—what about—“ _What about me_ , he thought.

“I still have the whole hiring process to go through. I can apply and do all that while still helping my mother out.”

Loki tightened his hands on the wheel. “So you’re leaving after all.”

“It’s just what I want to do.” Sif looked over at him. Something between them had shifted, new and fragile and _good_ , and as much as she wanted to stay in Asgardia and nurture it, she couldn’t leave her mother alone. She just hoped he could understand why she was doing this.

*

Loki didn’t understand.

After Sif graduated from the police academy, a week after Halloween, she was gone.

*

“Come on, brother, you have to.”

“I have to do _nothing_ , Thor.”

“I _want_ you to. All you do is work now – you have today and tomorrow off, come back down to the _Nine Realms_ and have some _fun._ ”

Loki stuck his head out of his closet and glared at Thor, sprawled across his bed, three briefs, and Loki’s iPad. “No.”

“I’ve booked a great band.”

“I don’t care.”

“All our friends are going to be there.”

“I don’t _care_. They’re mostly _your_ friends, anyway.”

“What else are you going to?” Thor rolled over onto his stomach and onto the fresh dry-cleaning Loki was hanging up. “Sit here, read _books_ and do _work_ and watch the ball drop on television?”

“We’d be watching it on television at the café anyway.”

“But you’d be around people.” Thor’s expression turned serious. “You’ve barely stopped since you got this job. I’m worried about you, brother.”

“Don’t be,” Loki snapped. “I’m just fine.”

He wasn’t, not really. Thor knew it, his parents knew it, everyone around him knew it. Loki had stuffed all his hurt down inside but it leaked out, and it had earned him a reputation for malicious pranks and biting words. He excelled at his new job, the senior partners (and even Adrian Thanos, the managing partner of the firm) had said he had the makings of greatness in him, but it seemed hollow. Something was missing, and he knew what it was, but he did not want to acknowledge it. 

In his phone were dozens of unsent text messages, and the number of times he’d called up Sif’s number in his contacts, thumb hovering over it, only to close out and back cowardly away from calling her were countless. He told himself she was _busy_ doing her _duty_ , but that wasn’t it at all, and the guilt at thinking such things about Sif compounded the problem entirely.

“Just come for a little bit,” Thor pleaded. “Everyone misses you. Darcy misses you. Even the mad scientists who come every other day miss you.”

“And the astrophysicist out of that group doesn’t miss _you_ at all.” Loki threw up his hands. “Fine. _Fine._ But if you expect me to get behind that counter and make drinks again—“

A grin split Thor’s face, one far wider than the situation called for. “No, we just want your company,” he said, bounding up off the bed and wrapping his brother in a bear hug before running out of the room. “Oh, this is _good_ , Loki! You won’t regret it!”

“What are you _plotting_ ,” Loki yelled after him, but sighed and went back into his closet to pull out an outfit.

*

Three hours later, Loki sat in the corner seat by the window. The café was packed wall to wall, and Thor and Darcy were making drinks as fast as they could, laughing and shouting over the noise of the crowd. The band – the Warriors Three, an indie group from the neighborhood who’d been gaining popularity and radio air time lately – was setting up on the stage, and the flat-screen televisions up near the ceiling displayed the crowd downtown that waited for midnight. Loki wondered if any of them felt as he did; surrounded by a crowd, and yet totally alone.

Several times he called to Thor, said he was going to leave and his new girlfriend could drive him home, but Thor always set another drink down in front of him and said he had to finish it before he left, or that Jane wasn’t that kind of girl and that she was _different_ , and then he’d throw a disgustingly affectionate look at her and she’d wave a hand at him and smile, and the cycle would start all over again. He also tried to pry information out of Thor, certain his brother was planning something, but could get nothing out of him. Thor was delighted by it, whatever it was, and was not going to give up his secret for anything in the world.

“You’re in my seat.”

 _Oh,_ Loki thought distantly. _So that’s what the secret was._

“It doesn’t have your name on it,” he said. Sif rolled her eyes, but extended a hand. “Can we talk somewhere where we won’t have to yell too much?”

“Hello, Sif, how are you,” he said. “Long time, no see, how’s it going, what’s doing…”

“Stop being an asshole and come with me. This is important.”

“It wasn’t important enough to stay for.”

“Goddamn it, Loki.” Sif let her hand drop. “I’m not going to play this game with you, I don’t _want_ to. Either you want to talk or you don’t, which is it?”

He hesitated only a moment, then rose slowly and put his mug back on the counter. “The storage room,” he said. “It’s marginally quieter in there.”

“Good enough.”

The heavy door shut out a lot of the noise once they were inside, and Sif set her bag down on a box of biodegradable plastic lids and turned to look at him.

“I heard you got a job at a law firm,” she said.

“Who told you that?”

“Thor. Unlike you, he doesn’t stop talking to people when they go home to help their overwhelmed, widowed mothers.”

“You left,” Loki snapped. “You just _left_ , and I was alone. You understood what it was like never being able to live up to expectations of your parents, and then you went away.”

“I never wanted to be your _crutch_.” There was enough acid in her words to score metal, but Loki didn’t flinch. “I’m not going to be the thing you lean on to keep yourself upright. You were acting like it was a personal insult that I went to go be with my _family_ when they needed me, as if you thought I’d give up everything I hold dear just to sit in a coffee shop and drink lattes and talk about philosophy with you, and it made me mad just as much as leaving you – and Thor, because he’s my _friend_ \- made me sad.”

“You could have said that.”

“I did. You didn’t listen. But you’re good at selectively listening and ignoring everything that doesn’t fit into the outcome you’ve already decided is going to happen.”

He sneered, leaning against the door. “So you came back here to insult me?”

“No, I came back here to _talk_ to you, because I wanted you to understand that I wasn’t going to give up my sense of honor, my duties and desire to protect what I love, just because you needed someone to stroke your ego. If you _ever_ thought that was what I was going to do—“

“It wouldn’t be you, if I did,” Loki interrupted. The words tumbled out of his mouth. “You’re… you know what you want, you have the conviction of belief to get it. I’ve trailed after my brother all my life, always in his shadow. Everyone in my… my _adopted_ family,” and by the way Sif didn’t react he knew that someone, probably Thor, had told her, “Has been in politics, or in a position where it plays a role. I went to law school. I have always been alone, Sif, and when I thought you left I was _angry_ —”

“I had to,” she replied quietly. “My mother needed me. I know you might not _get it_ ,” and here her voice became a little harder, “But she couldn’t be alone, and I had to think, and being around you—“

“—makes that difficult.”

“Yes.” Sif ran a hand through her hair, her heels clicking on the concrete floor as she walked over. Loki watched her, watched the way the fluorescent lights slid through her hair in waves, and his palms itched with the need to touch her and tell himself she was really back.

“So are you done thinking, my lady?” he asked. Her hands reached out, fingertips sliding along his sides, fitting into the places between his ribs as the pieces of his heart slotted back together.

“For now,” she said, and kissed him.

It took him a moment to respond, but then he was crushing her against him, fingers going into her hair and sliding down her spine and then back up to wrap around her arms and—

Her palm connected with the side of his head and Loki saw stars burst around her face as he slid sideways, her expression clearly torn between laughter and lingering irritation at him.

“What,” he said.

“That,” Sif told him, “Was for being a complete and utter _idiot_ for _months._ ”

“I suppose I deserved it,” Loki muttered. “I think you’ve knocked something loose.”

“Impossible. Your skull is too hard for that.” She pulled him upright, hands fisted in his shirt. “You could have called.”

“I thought you’d hang up on me.”

“I might have. Would you have kept calling?”

“Of course.” Loki grinned as she yanked him over to a stack of boxes and sat herself on top of it, pulling him between her legs. “I have a hard head, after all. I don’t listen very well.”

“You’d best start,” Sif growled. Her leg hooked around behind him and pulled him closer, wiggling until her dress was bunched up around her waist. “I’m going to be very specific about what I want, and if you don’t listen…” She trailed off as he pushed her hands away from his belt and knelt before her. “What are you doing?”

“Not listening.” Loki hooked his index fingers over the top of her panties and pulled on them, and Sif lifted her hips so he could slide them off. “But I think you’ll like it.”

He bent his head then and Sif gasped at the first pass of his tongue, and as he continued her hands went to his hair to press him forward. Many of her lovers hadn’t been particularly _good_ at this, but Loki used his tongue deftly; now sliding the tip over her clit, now laving it with the flat of his tongue, keeping the pressure constant and unrelenting. He played her body like she imagined he played people in a courtroom, and when she came Sif threw her head back and laughed as the tension from the last few months drained out of her.

Loki let her ride it out for a minute, the motions of his tongue prolonging her orgasm for quite a bit longer than she’d ever experienced, and when she was through laughing she slumped a little, drained. He shrugged her legs off his shoulders and stood, and Sif wrapped her arms around him and held him close as they kissed again. She could taste coffee and her own salty-sweet flavor on his tongue, and lingered over it.

“Do you think we could make a drink like that?” he asked at last.

Sif hit him again.

*

There were seven minutes left to midnight when Loki breezed out of the storage room and over to the counter. “Peppermint mocha,” he said.

Sif came up beside him. “Make that two.”

Thor made them, an eyebrow raised. “So the two of you disappeared for a while,” he said.

“I didn’t like the music. Couldn’t hear myself think.” Loki seemed much more chipper than he had almost an hour ago when Thor had directed Sif over to where he was sitting, and that made Thor very happy indeed.

“And we needed to talk for a bit,” Sif added. “It was a very sensitive conversation.”

“I think my quick tongue resolved several of the issues,” Loki mused. Sif glared at him, but smiled into her mocha when she picked it up. Thor pretended he hadn’t heard.

When it got to one minute left, Thor got out from behind the counter and wove through the crowd to where Jane was standing. She’d come with her friends from the university, an engineer and a bunch of physicists and biologists, but she unfolded herself from her chair and took his hand.

“Did it work?” she asked quietly, looking around him to where Sif and Loki leaned against the countertop, watching one of the televisions.

“I believe it did.” Thor put his arms around her waist and held her close, grinning into her hair as the whole café began to count down. “I _knew_ opening this café was a great idea.”

*

The alarm blared in her ears, and Sif groaned, rolling over and stuffing her head beneath the pillow.

“No,” said a voice from somewhere above and beside her. “We’re not doing this again.”

Sif yelped when the blankets were pulled off her, exposing her bare skin to the chilly air and the wandering hands of her husband.

“You’re just doing this because you want something before you head off to work,” she grumbled. Loki pressed his lips to the dip of her spine.

“I always want something,” he said against her skin. “Are you going to arrest me, Officer?”

“Yes.” Sif stretched an arm back and poked him in the shoulder. “Lewd behavior.”

“I can’t help my nature.”

“You can help me by getting off—no jokes or I swear to _every_ god, Loki—and letting me get ready.”

“My lady is so cruel to me,” Loki whined, but rolled off and let her get ready for the day, and by the time she’d showered, eaten, and dressed in her stiff new uniform he was ready to go too, pressing a travel mug of perfectly-brewed coffee into her hands as he kissed her.

“I’ll see you in twelve hours,” she mumbled against his lips. “Try not to commit any felonies.”

“No promises.”

“Then just don’t get caught.”

“ _That_ I can manage.”

Stepping into the elevator and thumbing the button for the garage level, Sif grinned. Today was going to be a very, very good day.


End file.
